


put the pieces back together (just to smash them down)

by thequacksonwrites



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequacksonwrites/pseuds/thequacksonwrites
Summary: Thank you, Kuro. Thank you for getting me into volleyball.Kuroo Tetsurou had laughed it off and gave his typical off-hand grin, although it fell down at the corners.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kuroo Tetsurou & Nekoma Volleyball Club
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	put the pieces back together (just to smash them down)

_Thank you, Kuro. Thank you for getting me into volleyball._

Kuroo Tetsurou had laughed it off and gave his typical off-hand grin, although it fell down at the corners.

After all, it hadn’t been _him_ that dragged Kenma into volleyball, he thinks, closing his water bottle a tad too forcefully. That was all on the shrimp from Karasuno. He had seen how Kenma’s eyes hardened slightly when playing them, how they seemed to burn brighter as he watched Shoyo, who managed to make _Kenma_ \- relatively apathetic, unenthusiastic and minimum effort Kenma- actually sprint for the ball before it dropped. Kenma had referred to Karasuno as something akin to a ‘final boss’; in regards to Kenma, they were. Kuroo had only seen him with that excited, deadly determined look with video games. Sure, he introduced Kenma to volleyball, but yet….

But yet.

Kuroo stands, ordering the team to stop guzzling water and change because, really, they still had a schedule to adhere to. Kuroo tries not to think of his spare volleyball uniform as he changes into his casual clothes. It feels wrong somehow, and he exhales slowly, ignoring the tendrils of defeat slowly encasing him in a cacoon of despair. He walked out of the changing room, leaning against the wall and tilting his head up slightly while waiting for the rest of Nekoma to exit. He can hear them talking, Lev laughing about something and Yaku threatening him. He hears Kai laughing about something one of the first years said, probably Shibayama as Yamamoto whines about how tired he is to anyone who bothered to listen (most likely Inuoka and Naoi). He doesn't hear Kenma's voice, nor did he expect to. He wishes he could though- he wanted to know what Kenma was thinking. 

_And then he's… 14? 15? He doesn't know the exact age, but he_ knows _what's happening: he's perched on a chair in Kenma's room, watching his friend sit cross-legged on the bed, fingers flying across his controller and eyes fixated on his screen._

_"Which high school do you plan to go to?"_

_Kuroo's answer had been lazy, although he remembers feeling a sudden surge of determination. "Nekoma."_

_"Nekoma?" Kenma was surprised enough to spare Kuroo a quick flick of his eyes. "But they haven't been to Nationals in ages."_

_"They will," Kuroo had said softly, staring into empty space. "With us around."_

_He had laughed, pulling himself out of his trance. He smirked slightly, knowing Kenma would see it in his peripheral vision and grow irritated. "I mean, with my blocks and your strategy, their intelligence and defence levels would definitely increase, right?"_

_Kenma pondered for a second before humming a yes. "I suppose so. You're good at reading spikers. That's scary."_

_Kuroo had let the self-satisfied grin take over his expression and his cunning mind his train of thought._

And yet Nekoma had only qualified as the host representatives for the Spring High. Normally Tokyo would only get two representative spots, but this year had three due to being the hosting city for the tournament. They couldn't beat Fukurodani in the semifinals, so they defeated Nohebi in the third place match. If Tokyo hadn't been the hosting city, they wouldn't have even managed to grab a spot along with Fukurodani and Itachiyama. 

Kuroo wonders bitterly if there was some sadistic god he had pissed off- why else would Nekoma have been able to compete and just… lose spectacularly.

It wasn't as if they had been off their game, no, Kuroo would claim it their best game played yet without hesitation.

(He tries not to think about how that was his final official match. No, he could deal with it later, when he was in his bedroom, when he screamed into his pillow at 2 am. Now was not the time.)

Nekoma was good, Kuroo knew that. Even Lev had improved with his abysmal receives, and they had all improved in small ways- except Kuroo. Kuroo couldn't see anything that he, the captain, had contributed to this improvement. Maybe he managed to increase his jump reach, or his speed in reacting to quicks and spikes but there wasn't anything else other than that, unlike damn Karasuno, whose little shrimp and grumpy setter managed to achieve another demonic quick. He was proud of how much Tsukki had improved as well- that asshole finally managed to become a worthy opponent, an actual _challenge_.

It was one of the reasons he didn't head to Fukurodani or Itachiyama. Although he doubted that his high grades were too low for the latter, Fukurodani had always been a consistently strong team, with Nekoma lagging behind. Kuroo saw it as a challenge, for him to become an even better volleyball player and try to get the team to be known again. A daunting challenge, maybe a bit unrealistic, but he'd be damned if he let that stop him.

But when Kuroo took on challenges, he liked to win them too.

And Kuroo wishes his brain would just _shut up already_ , because he really didn't need to be reminded of all his injuries. His cheesy pep talks that the team lovingly jeered at. How he had begged Kenma to stay when the third years were too harsh on him. The hours he had spent multitasking between volleyball and revision (which aggravated Kenma, who had been struggling to balance school and volleyball before Kuroo started to tutor him). How everyone always had trust in their teammates, connecting flawlessly so that Kenma could strategise better. How Yaku demanded that Kuroo attempt to hit a few spikes to him so that he could receive them. And the team bonding moments, which were rare, but happened at training camp, or when Yamamoto invited everyone to his house. The effort. The time. The patience. The grim perseverance. All that and so much more and for what? To play two- or only _win_ two- lousy games at Nationals.

Kuroo feels his hands curl up into fists, fingernails digging into his palm but he doesn't stop them, instead forcing them to tear off some of the skin. 

Kuroo has never been a sore loser, never has, never will, but he _despises_ Karasuno with such furious hate, he's almost scared of himself. Nekoma was better than Karasuno, he knows, even Sawamura had admitted it, so _why did they lose?_ He's flicking through memories of the different rallies, because what could they have done better? How did Hinata still manage to break free of the cage that they had shoved him in? Why did they lose if every single team member was giving it their all, and then some?

And Kuroo hates it, hates that the only plausible answer was that Nekoma's improvements weren't enough. _They_ weren't enough. Even after everything, those stupid crows bested them. So _damn_ them and their idiotic motivations and _everything_ because somehow, they pulled ahead. They had the last laugh. And Nekoma was stuck again, struggling to get the upper hand, because they weren't enough even after making it to nationals and moreover, _he_ wasn't good enough-

"Tetsu."

Kuroo forced his body to relax instantaneously, looking down at Yaku, who was frowning as if he were about to yell at Kuroo, although his eyes held concern. Even if Kuroo wasn't an excellent reader of people, Yaku was an open book, so Kuroo just gave his cheerful, lopsided grin.

"What? You don't need to look at me like that, Morisuke."

Yaku's eyes narrow slightly and Kuroo then realises his slip-up; he rarely calls Yaku by his first name, only doing that to strengthen his 'Yeah, I'm Okay' facade.

Kuroo checks his watch before gestures to Yaku. "C'mon, Yakkun, go do your mother hen-ing and ask the team to hurry up."

Yaku still looks at Kuroo with some suspicious concern but nods and leaves him anyway. 

Kuroo breathes, forcing his respiratory system to actually work. He probably has half a minute to collect himself before Kai comes out to check on him on Yaku's orders. That's manageable- he can fool Kai and Yaku, although when Yaku was suspicious, it was hard to convince the two otherwise. That's fine. But Kenma- Kenma's sharp. He has never been able to fool Kenma.

… Well then, he'll make this his first time. Easy. Challenge accepted.

Kuroo decides to hum the periodic table song internally to calm himself before Kai approaches him, reaching out to squeeze Kuroo's shoulder lightly. "You're okay, right?"

"Of course I am," Kuroo forces out his normal light-heartedness into his voice, trying not to let the hollow feeling reflect in his words. "Just kinda mad we didn't beat those damn birds."

Kuroo almost regrets saying that last line as Kai's eyes sharpened thoughtfully but Yaku arrives right on time, pushing the rest of the team out of the changing room, who follow Kuroo's lead down the hallway.

"I'm hungry," Lev whines and Kuroo bites back a harsh retort, unsure why it even popped into his mouth in the first place.

"We can collect the food on our way out from the reception."

He's aware his words are more clipped than usual, and makes a mental note of it. No one should know, or rather, could know. He's fine.

But he's very, very aware of the three pairs of eyes on his back.

***

Kuroo immediately heads to the last row of seats the moment he hopped onto the bus. It was like clockwork; he'd claim the last row of seats, because he'd like to stretch out on it like a territorial cat claiming a sofa. Kenma sat either one or two rows in front of him- one if Kuroo was still pretty energetic and wanted to talk, two if Kuroo was worn out and wanted to nap. Kenma slides into the seat two rows in front, as Nekoma's captain dejectedly presses his forehead against the cool window, not flopping down as he normally would. He faintly hears the sounds of Kenma's game, the soundtrack filtering through the mini explosion noises. He closes his eyes, focusing on the cold glass in contrast to his warm, drained body. Kuroo was just about to recline on the seats when-

"Don't you dare lie down and sleep now, Tetsu."

Kuroo opens one eye. "Yakkun."

The libero huffs and plops himself into the seat beside the middle blocker.

"You're not okay," he stated accusingly.

Kuroo begins the whole 'of-course-I'm-okay' act. "What d'you mean, Morisuke? I'm fine."

Kuroo panics at the slip up again, but Yaku doesn't immediately pounce on it like he expected him to. Instead he sighs. "Y'know, for someone who always said I lack docosahexaenoic acid, you seem to be in need of it as well even though you eat that salted mackerel pike religiously."

Kuroo blinks. The… insult route? Interesting choice for Yaku to make, considering that the libero normally went all out with lectures. He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow, refusing to back down. "And why is that?"

"Don't play coy," Yaku hisses. "You know what I mean- this has been your dream and… it's our last official match."

Kuroo catches the tremble in Yaku's voice for the last few words, and uses it to his advantage. "Shouldn't Kai be here for the whole third-years-leaving speech?"

"Shut up."

Yaku sniffs and tears fall slowly down his face. Kuroo exhales in relief quietly. He had his ace card, and sufficiently distracted Yaku. He's in the clear. 

He humors Yaku for a bit, saying some captain-y things that feel so _fake_. He can't count how many times he almost said 'there's still next year, right, Yakkun?'.

Because there isn't.

That was their final shot at doing something to reclaim back their crown. Now they were forced to the gutter, and could only watch as a certain murder of crows flew higher, higher, higher.

At the end of the day, life was a bitch and he wasn't enough.

Then again, what else was new?

He wonders if it was a bit much for him to wish that their wings would burn once they got too close to the sun. Then he realises he doesn't care; if they fell, then so be it. If they kept going higher, then so be it. 

It wasn't as if he could play against them again and make their glory his.

Kuroo immediately lies down after Yaku leaves him, going to ask Kai for some of the leftover food and snacks they had. He's exhausted, his muscles stinging from the numerous long rallies they had endured earlier. It's almost mocking, the pain- a reminder of his failure that he can't ignore.

The air conditioning is cold in the bus, but it was the uncomfortable vice-like grip of insecurities that caused Kuroo to shiver.

***

A few minutes before the bus pulls into Nekoma, Kuroo stands up and calls for the team's attention, drawing curious looks; Kuroo normally held a speech when everyone was at the foyer after alighting the bus. Everyone's head turns to him, except Coach Nekomata and Kenma, both of whom were still clearly listening. 

Kuroo suddenly has a terrible feeling that Kenma had cottoned on to him after eavesdropping on the conversation with Yaku.

"... Look," he begins awkwardly, running a hand to the bird's nest that was his bedhead. "I'm sorry."

Kenma turns then- not to face him but to examine Kuroo's reflection in the mirror. He pretends not to notice.

"I'm sorry. I always said I would get Nekoma to nationals. And I did. But… I wanted to take us further than a measly three games."

Kuroo doesn't know why he's telling the team; he had always refused to show these kinds of weaknesses from people, even Kenma, but now… the words demanded to be spoken.

But Kuroo made sure to filter them before saying too much.

He may be talking about his feelings, but that doesn't mean he's going to give his team a chance to analyse him. Kuroo does that enough.

"I'm sorry," he says again, conscious of how empty his voice sounds. "I'm sorry that I couldn't work harder with all of you to be better. I'm sorry for not being able to lead the team to more matches…"

_… and for not being enough._

"Captain," Shibayama speaks up. "But we all bear the blame of not making it farther. We're a team. Just because you're the captain doesn't mean it's your fault."

Kuroo plasters a smile. "Yeah. Anyways, at least now all of you can skedaddle home when we get down from this bus."

Most of the team laughs and turns back to what they were doing. Kuroo sinks down, staring at his hands, red from the places his nails broke its skin

But it _is_ his fault that he couldn't drag Nekoma into the spotlight. What with Bokuto being a top ace and Karasuno rising back to their former glory, who would pay attention to Nekoma? He hadn't stayed true to his promise.

He failed, he _lost_.

He just wasn't enough.

***

Kuroo is only mildly surprised that Nekomata beckons him over the moment his foot steps onto solid ground. He left him out of the equation, a careless oversight, especially after Kuroo did the speech in the bus. 

"Coach?" he asks politely, looking at his sensei with an inquisitive look.

He smiles gently. "Kuroo. I would like to thank you for being such a fine captain."

He freezes. _No, I'm not._

"I doubt Nekoma would've been able to arrive at nationals so quickly without your leadership. Playing Karasuno was, simply put, the cherry on top of the icing."

_You win some, you lose some_ , he remembers Sawamura saying. His fists ball themselves up into fists again, his palm stinging where his fingernails persistently dug into it.

Nekomata looks at him, both stern and kind. "You're a fine boy and a good player. Be proud of what you've accomplished."

How can he when he's accomplished nothing? But he keeps quiet and sinks into a low bow. "Thank you very much!"

He can't stop the tears that suddenly prick his eyes, that start a river that formed into a waterfall. He impatiently rubs them away with his jacket sleeve. Later. Now not, where anyone could see, you _failure_ , stop being weak, don't start with self-pity, _enough_ of this shit, enough, he isn't enough-

"Kuro."

Kenma's soft voice was still loud enough to cause Kuroo to jump slightly, startled.

"You waited for me," he says dumbly, in one of those ways where it was both a statement and a question.

Kenma inclines his head slowly, putting aside his phone. Kuroo gets the unnerving feeling that Kenma was watching him from behind his bangs. Kenma only answers after they start walking. "Of course I did. We always walk home together."

"Not for much longer, kitten."

The words escape Kuroo's mouth before he realises the major mistake he made, freezing in his tracks as Kenma does the same.

Shit. That would just allow Kenma to analyse him easier.

"Stop that."

Kuroo blinks at the frowning Kenma before him. "Stop what?"

"Trying to lock up your emotions and reactions," Kenma looks into Kuroo's eyes dead-on, a glare creeping into the stare. "You know I could still read you."

Kuroo wonders how many fake smiles he had had to stretch onto his face today. "Maybe _don't_ read me, kitten. I don't want you to know."

Kenma blanched slightly at the taunting nickname, his face turned into a scowl. "You're being ridiculous, Kuro. Let me help."

"I can handle myself," he bristles, leaning down in a slightly menacing manner to Kenma.

Kenma doesn't shift his gaze or even take a step back from Kuroo's murderous stare. Rational Kuroo knows it was a bad idea, and that he shouldn't be yelling at _Kenma_ of all people but he couldn't care. He felt as if he was going to collapse from sheer exhaustion with thoughts running around his head, yelling at him as fury, envy, despair and misery mashed themselves together into a black beast that roared within the confines of his heart as his insecurities whispered to him, poisoning his mind.

"No, you _can't_ , Kuro," Kenma seethes. "Sure, you remind me to eat and all that, but you're worse than me when it comes to emotional self-care."

Kenma isn't shouting, only raising his voice by a few decibels, and that's all it took for Kuroo to snap.

"So what, you want honesty? Fine. I'm fucking tired of feeling like a failure, of trying, of putting in effort because even when I think I've finally made it, it's not enough, _I'm_ not enough and I hate it. I hate life for being so unfair. I hate it for taunting us but letting us have a chance at nationals but forced us home only after _three games_."

Kuroo feels his posture slip a bit, and he quiets down, the nagging feeling that Kenma had provoked him as bait growing. "It was too early for us to go home. We're stronger than them in almost every way. We could've taken the third set easily, so why…"

Kuroo feels the empty feeling expand slightly, letting Kenma catch a glimpse of all his cracks and chips in him. 

Kenma's gaze is unreadable, but Kuroo can tell from his slight pout that Kenma was trying to figure out what to say. "We'll give them hell next year."

"You'd better," he mumbles darkly, before despair shrouded him again. They resumed walking, Kuroo slouching almost as much as Kenma. "But… it isn't the same. _I_ wanted to be there with all of you. Maybe Nekoma would win but… it's not _my_ Nekoma, _our_ Nekoma."

"Kuro," Kenma sighs, before pausing. "The world will know your name someday. Volleyball now is just a club. I doubt you'll go professional; you'll probably want to do something science-y because you're a nerd."

Kenma ignores Kuroo's protest at that statement. "You're smart, and good and all that, but you _have_ changed and improved. You're much more than the shy kid who moved in beside me."

Kuroo doesn't know how to react- Kenma never lies, and always gives his honest, albeit blunt at times, opinions. Knowing that Kenma somehow has _that_ much faith in him was… disconcerting, actually. It was such a drastic change from the opinion he had about himself, and it wasn't as though his bitch of a father even bothered to say… anything, really, to Kuroo.

He doesn't realise the tears had started again until he feels Kenma hugging him unexpectedly.

Kuroo was in an ongoing war; except it was internal. Every little insecurity, every feeling, every thought and show of weakness was fighting one another constantly. He was, frankly, a mess. Maybe a slightly charming, geeky mess but still a mess. He has days where he struggles to find a reason to wake up, and he always sees a failure in the mirror when it should've just been his reflection. It isn't easy, hell no.

But maybe if he had people like Kenma by his side, he could overcome them.

He would probably doubt them. A lot. And flat out refuse compliments, but it was better than nothing- better than having to fight himself alone.

It was a rare optimistic thought in the middle of a cynical, self-criticising wasteland that was Kuroo's head.

"And I know you've been doubting it but… Kuro, I do volleyball because of you. I worked harder so that we could make it to nationals. Shoyo was just the extra push I needed. Volleyball was always for you."

And Kuroo doesn't attempt to wipe away the tears this time because he's a mess, a broken mess, but maybe, he can be salvaged.

  
  


He still hated life for letting Karasuno win, though.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed reading!! kudos and comments are appreciated :) my tumblr is @silverquackson


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